Man Down
by Ryoko Metallium
Summary: Pre-GOW2 Marcus Fenix is wounded during a Locust battle and it's up to Dom Santiago to assume role of team leader and get his friend to safety. Problem: Delta Squad becomes stranded in unfamiliar territory with Locust hunting their every mov
1. Chapter One: Blood Works

Title: Man Down

Author: Ryoko Metallium

**Author's Notes: I got this idea after reading both Gears of War novels by Karen Traviss one day. I started thinking, "What would happen if Marcus was just suddenly taken out of the picture?" Would Delta Squad be able to function the way it does without him? This idea was only more explored whenever my brother and I would play co-op together. He wasn't a big fan of Dom in either games, mostly do the fact that Dom tended to get in the way more times than my brother could tolerate. But it really got me thinking that if it came down to it, if Marcus was unable to lead his team, could Dom make for a good replacement? Most of you will say no and I'm crazy to think otherwise since this is Marcus Fenix we're talking about, but let the idea sit for a minute. If you have read the Karen Traviss novels and played the games, then you already know that Dom is unyieldingly loyal to Marcus, and vice-versa. If Marcus was the one who needed protection, how would Dom step up to that task? How would he save the last true friend he had in the world? That's what I wanted to explore in this story. Think of it as my take on the whole band-of-brothers theme. **

**Another thing, you may notice a lot of medical talk in this story as I was trying to make this sound as real as possible. I have to give props to my friend Angela who helped me make sense of some of the lingo here and there, as well as tolerate the hours spent watching old reruns of ER lol. I may have gotten a few things wrong in this department so please don't flame me if I screw up. I was winging it badly. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gears of War. They are the property of Epic Games, Microsoft Game Studio and Cliff Bleszinski. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them. I promise I'll give them back.**

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**Chapter One: Blood Work**

**Location: Jacinto City – Wrightman Base; COG Command Center and Medical, Ambulance bay**

Hard to believe, but things were so much easier back when Isabel Hayman was a first-year intern. Seems like only yesterday that she was starting her first day under the tutelage of Dr. Roger Stiybeck, the notorious hard-ass of the trauma unit and one of the most gifted physicians she ever had the privilege of studying under. He was one of those short, pissy men who liked to make everyone's life miserable. He ran her ragged, making her perform every demeaning chore he could imagine and took great pleasure in doing. He's absolute favorite was sending her off to collecting stool and urine samples just so that she would stay out of his way.. He used to march up and down the halls of hospital like a drill sergeant giving out orders and undermining everyone's decisions regarding patient treatment.

The nurses hated him.

The doctors despised him.

The medical board tolerated him.

Yeah, fun guy that Stiybeck was.

Still, Hayman could say with whole honestly that despite the abuse, she did learn a lot about being a doctor. One of the harshest lessons she learned was who could be saved and who couldn't. She remembered a time where she was overseeing a multiple-car pileup on the freeway. It was probably the worst she had ever seen. So many injured but most of all she remembered seeing more red and black toe tags than she could count .Stiybeck taught her about natural selection that day and the rules of triage. Rule number one: don't expect miracles. In situations such as that, if a patient looked like on the brink of death, chances are all the skills you learn in medical school wouldn't mean shit. As a doctor, you want to save everyone. It's what you're trained to do, but if you were Roger Stiybeck's student, you learned that it could never turn out that way no matter how good you were.

Nowadays, Hayman knew how to spot a dead man from miles away. She knew the look of death as it slowly took over a person and claimed the last precious seconds of life. Since E-Day, seeing someone die was a normal as watching the sun rise. Her hands were always stained red with blood from COG soldiers being wheeled into the trauma unit, struggling to stay alive. Nine times out of ten there wasn't much she could do by the time she got them on the OR table. Hayman had gotten pretty good at sorting out the dead, judging those who she could spend her time saving.

The last fourteen years since E-Day had changed her outlook on life that she ever expected it too. She had become very harden to the sounds and smells of death and to even caring anymore if it would make a difference. And that scared her. If there was one thing that frightened her more than the damned grubs, it was the possibility of becoming another Roger Styibeck.

An uncaring soulless bastard…

That afternoon, she had gotten word from Control that a KR unit was coming in with a critical patient from somewhere in the LID's, Locust-Infested district. So what else was new? Every inch of Sera was locust-infested, all except Jacinto which wasn't saying much anyway. Thanks the never-ending war against those underground monsters, surviving was getting harder to endure. Supplies were always on short stock; blood, plasma, pain killers, I.V fluids, ventilators, defibrillators. It was amazing how mankind managed to keep going. Hope was as much short supply as the hospital storage closest. Which was one of the reasons why she wasn't looking forward to this coming arrival.

The King Raven was due to land in five minutes, and that's where Hayman was now. She was standing outside in the ambulance pit, getting in a quick cigarette to calm her nerves. She inhaled the smooth flavor of the nicotine deeply, savoring the taste and losing herself in the haze of smoke. The sky had turned a bright orange, glowing like fire as the sun was starting to sink behind the mountains of Landown. A grouping of clouds drifted by effortlessly, merging and forming in different shapes and sizes. For a second, she thought she heard a bird sing or two. Given the circumstances, it was actually peaceful and beautiful to watch. Moments such as this had to be treasured, enjoyed for all its worth before it was interrupted by the deafening _chucka-chucka _of a King Raven's blades.

Such as now.

Shesucked the last taste out of her cigarette before stomping it with her boot. The Raven landed rather hard on the ground as a group of medical officers hurried over to the opened doors to pull out the patient. She saw some Gears jumping out of the chopper helping to load the wounded soldier onto the gurney. One was actually climbing on top of the patient, pumping his chest performing CPR. Hayman sighed heavily. The soldier must have flat-lined on the way over. It already looked like a lost-cause.

A medic was waving her over to them franticly, screaming for aid. "We need some help over here!"

"What do we got?" she asked as she walked towards them, shielding her eyes from the glow of the sun.

"Mutliple GSW's to the chest and abdomen with massive blood loss on scene, plus a stab wound straight through the belly! We lost the pulse soon after takeoff so I started CPR! We tried shocking the heart back into rhythm but there wasn't a response! He's been down for at least five minutes… Come on you asshole! Come on!"

She couldn't see the soldier's face from the bright glare in her eyes, but she knew his voice anywhere. "Santiago?"

As she ran along with the gurney away from the glare of the sunlight, she gazed down at the wounded man, getting a good look at his bloody face. For a split second she felt like she was an intern again and looking at her first dead man. Her throat closed from shock, she couldn't breathe or think straight. Everything she learned in medical school seemed to disappear completely and her mind went blank. It took her a few seconds before she even realized who she was looking at.

She gasped loudly as her eyes went huge. "Oh shit…holy shit!"

It was Fenix.

She knew that tattered do-rag anywhere.

This was _Marcus Fenix_ she was staring at.

Suddenly Hayman was overcome by strong sense of urgency. Adrenaline surged through her, as well as panic. They burst through the swinging doors of the ambulance bay where crowds of hospital staff and other less critical patients had been waiting to be treated. The sudden appearance of Delta team caught some attention, but even more when they saw their leader laying on the gurney on the verge of bleeding out.

Marcus was unresponsive as Dom worked feverishly to get his heart started again. Another team mate, Number 83 himself, Augustus Cole ran hard pushing the gurney into the hospital while he was pumping an ambu bag, using it to breath for Marcus. The determined look of a man possessed reflected in his face, like he was rushing towards the end of the goal line. Damon Baird appeared seemingly out of nowhere, screaming for people to get the fuck out of the way. He grabbed the front of the bed and started steering it radically in an effort to clear a pathway.

"Move move move move! Now! Move it!" he ordered.

Other doctors rushed over and starting following them, but Hayman paid them no attention. Instead she quickly started switching gears back into professional mood and ran through the check list of what she needed to know. "Somebody clear trauma room one! Call every available surgeon down here STAT!" She turned to Dom. "How did this happen?"

It was a pretty pointless question to ask, but Santiago answered her anyway. "We were awaiting pick up from the KR unit, at the landing zone near Ilima when we were caught off guard from a Locust squad! Emergence holes started popping up everywhere; hostels engaged us and we were pinned down hard! Marcus was already wounded from a previous attack and I…ah shit. I tried to get him out of there. I tried…"

His voice quivered as he pressed down harder, trying to massage his friend's heart back into rhythm. He sounded winded, like he had been doing it for hours. Sweat rolled down his brow and his face was red with exhaustion. He counted off five compressions while Cole pumped the air bag on the sixth. Marcus didn't flinch or react in anyway. His blood-spattered face was deathly pale and cold to the touch. By all accounts, he was already dead. But Dom was refusing to stop. He wasn't going to let his best friend die, but the small machine that was hooked up to Marcus registered no activity.

"Come on, come on, come on Marcus…" he chanted repeatedly, pumping down on Marcus' chest. "Come on man, you can't do this me now! You hear me? Don't do this to me, you son-of-a-bitch!"

They broke through another set of swinging doors as they raced down another hallway. The medic who had gotten off the helicopter chimed in suddenly, and started going through the recap of Fenix's condition in thorough detail. "He's BP bottomed out in flight! Heart rates dropping 186 over 98 and pulse ox is down to 85 and thready! Intubated chest tube and I.V. Positive lavage for internal bleeding in the abdomen! Degreased breath sounds on the right side, possible collapsed lung! He has zero response to pain! Injury to the right lower quadrant – probably nicked the liver or gallbladder! Least serious injury is a broken left arm."

Hayman knew the rookie medic right away from the sound of voice. It was same kid she sent out with Fenix as part of his infield medical training four days ago. Alan, his name was. She had wanted him to know how to work under pressure, but this wasn't what she had in mind. Judging from the amount of dirt, smoke and blood that stained his clothes, Delta must have been in one hell of a fire fight. Remarkably, the kid was keeping a rather cool head about him. Whereas most new recruits would shut down in the face of such things, Alan remained calm and focused.

Hayman couldn't help but be impressed, and a little proud.

Marcus's armor had been stripped off of him. There were two gunshot wounds just above the heart that Hayman could see, oozing blood underneath a vast amount of gauze that had been placed over in attempts to stop the bleeding. She could see another one just below his ribcage. The padding of the gurney was quickly becoming soaked with red. His abdomen was bandaged tightly from the stab wound that was just above his liver. Looking at his wounds further, it appeared as if there had been some work done to Marcus. Had Alan done some in-the-field surgery?

What exactly happened out there?

Using her pocket flash light, she shined it into his vacant eyes. No reaction.

"Pupils are fixed and dilated," she said. "No palpable pulse. Zero respiratory. Check his tags for blood type. Type and cross specific, 4 units. Get two units of 0-neg just in case, Mg of atropine and a portable chest. Order a monitor from up stairs. Somebody call the O.R. Tell them we're on our way up!"

A nurse heard the commotion and started running behind them. "Dr. Hayman, we checked the blood bank and we're low on O-negative!"

_Damn it! That was all that she needed. _"Alright alright, listen to me! I want you to go to the lobby and tap everyone you can find for blood! I want every Gear, every doctor and nurse! Hell, even get the guy who mops the shit in the bathroom! We need blood!" She grabbed Marcus' tags and read the inscription. "Okay, he's A plus! Screen everyone who's either O plus or A negative for compatibility! Cole, Baird that means you too! Go, we can handle it from here!"

"Yo, take care of him doc," Cole said, handing off to the nurse. "Come on Baird, let's go."

Baird handed the gurney off another medic as he and Cole went off to have their blood drawn and tested. As they reached the surgical floor, surgeons were already waiting in full scrubs for their arrival and rushed to their aid. Dom was still hard at work performing CPR when they pulled into the operating room. So caught up in what he was doing, Dom couldn't hear Hayman shouting at him to stop.

"Dom, Dom that's enough," she said, trying to pull his hands way. "Dom, you can stop now. We'll take it from here."

"I can't…I can't."

"You need to. Come on, let's go."

It took some coaching, but Dom eventually stopped performing CPR and allowed the other surgeons to take over. He stumbled to the back of the operating room out of the way. As Hayman changed into her scrubs, she caught him staring at his hands that were covered and dripping with his partner's blood. He had a shell-shocked look in his face, overwhelmed and overcome. But she couldn't concern herself with him when her attention greatly needed to be on Fenix.

Dom looked on in confusion, trying to see over the crowded that surrounded around Marcus just to catch a glimpse at what they were doing to him. The O.R. was a circus of people and was quickly becoming overrun. It was pure organized chaos. Just as Hayman had ordered, it appeared that every staff member on duty had arrived to lend a hand. Everyone was shouting all together; giving orders and requests that it was hard to make out what they were saying. The flat-line sound of the heart monitor hadn't changed and was becoming increasingly discouraging.

Dom ran his fingers nervously through his hair, completely forgetting about the blood as he watched. The doctors were doing everything they could, but to him, it didn't seem like they were doing enough. There was so much noise, so much mayhem happening and all the while Marcus was slowly slipping away.

A cold pit started to form in his stomach, making him feel extremely nauseous. He was watching his best friend die in front him. "Will somebody do something!" he shouted. "Fuck, you can't let him die!"

Hayman shot Dom a dirty look, and then sighed heavily. "Somebody call Brody down here! We may need him!"

"Get a defibrillator in here!" shouted a nurse. "We need to get his rhythm back up!"

"No, no no , first we need to stabilize his bleeding first! Someone get me a scalpel blade, 10, and a rib spreader before he bleeds out!"

Hayman was used to blood; the smell, the taste, the feel of it as it poured all over you just as you cut away at the skin. Holding the scalpel in her hand, she cut along Marcus's diaphragm, opening him in a loud and wet crack and she began searching for the source of the bleeding. After doing this for so long, she knew exactly what she was looking for. She knew the motions by heart; find it and clamp it tight until you can get the patient on the operating table. But looking at it, she wondered surgery would even matter at this point. Marcus had been down for too long and he had lost a lot of blood.

When the brain was deprived of oxygen for too long, there could be permanent damage done. His chances of regaining consciousness or even surviving were slim.

His chest cavity was in pieces. Hayman let out a discouraged groan as she shattered pits of bone everywhere. Both lungs were practically swimming in a soup of blood. It was going to take extensive reconstruction to repair, probably an added three hours in surgery. The damage looked like it had been done by a Locust's Hammerburst Assault Rifle at very close range, as if Marcus had willingly stepped in front of the bullets himself. She shoved a suction tube into Marcus's chest to clear away some of the blood. Two of the main arteries that carried blood to the hearts had been severed and was spraying like a busted fire hose. The stab wound had pierced through the liver, but there were signs that someone had tried to repair. The patch work looked shitty and rushed; the kind of thing someone would see at a Stranded camp.

Normally, Hayman was able to easily shut out the world whenever she was working on a patient. Even when a patient was at death's door like Fenix was and everyone was in a panic, she was always able to perform under the pressure. That wasn't the case this time. This time, Hayman kept getting distracted by the constant noise going on around. She had to keep referring to her mental check list, saying the steps out loud when she never had to do it before just so she didn't mess up.

Maybe she was nervous it was because it was Fenix, or because his best friend was watching her every move.

As blood sprayed on her scrubs, she found the source of the bleed and quickly clamped it shut with a hemostat.

"There, he's clamped! Bring in whatever O-neg we have on hand already and put it on an I.V. drip!"

Another surgeon appeared, bumping into Dom as she was bringing in a heavy machine. "The defibrillator here!"

"Charge internal paddles to 200!"

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

Dom watched with some shocked disgust as Hayman shoved the paddles into the gaping hole in Marcus's chest. The doctors cleared back as she shocked his heart once, but nothing happened. The flat-line didn't change. "Nothing. Charge it up to 300! Clear!"

Hayman shocked the heart once more and again, there was no change. Desperation started to consume her, much like always did when she feared she was going to lose a patient. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, as well as panic. This was what she was most afraid of. Marcus had been down for too long. Anything short of a resurrection, or a miracle, was going to bring him back now. Wouldn't it be poetic if she ended up being the one who had Marcus Fenix die on her watch?

'_Damn it Fenix! You die on me and I'll never hear the end of it from Hoffman or Prescott!' _

"Okay, one more time! Charge to 350! Clear!"

She shocked him and the whole room held its' breath, including Dom. For several seconds nothing happened. There was no noise except the sound of flat line on the monitor. Hayman glanced back at Dom, who had his fists in his hair. His eyes were wild with pure fear, his lips mouthing a silent 'no' over and over. Looking back at the monitor, Hayman was left with little choice. She was just about to call the time of death, but stopped when she saw the flat line suddenly jump on the screen. She watched it closely for another second, expecting it to fade, but instead it began to beep slowly. The beeping continued to pick up the pace until finally developed a stable rhythm.

Suddenly Hayman felt herself let out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding. "We…we got a rhythm! I don't believe it! Son of a bitch…"

"Pulse is weak but it's there!" shouted a nurse.

"Alright, get him prepped for surgery," she said, handing the paddles off to someone. "Clear the abdomen for bleeding. Page Brody again, tell him to get his ass down here and someone go see how Audrey is doing with those blood screens!"

Hayman hurried over to Dom, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him out of the O.R. Outside, a crowd of curious spectators had gathered to see if they could catch a glimpse inside the operating room like it was some damn freak show. Hayman screamed at them to leave, cursing every obscenity she could think of and turned to talk to Dom.

"Alright Santiago. I need you to wait out here. I can't have you crowding up my O.R. and getting in everyone's while we work on Fenix, okay" she ordered. "Dom? Dom, look at me."

Dom didn't answer her. His interest was solely on the operating room doors and trying to get a look inside. Hayman snapped her fingers loudly to get his attention. "I'm…I'm sorry doc. I didn't…Look, is Marcus going to make it?"

Hayman let out a long coarse sigh as she stripped out of her dirty scrubs and gloves, throwing them into the biohazard bin. She brushed her wispy-white hair out of her face, her fingers itching for a cigarette. Her nicotine buzz from earlier was completely gone as was her patience. She pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to stay level headed. "Look, I can't give you a complete assessment just yet. Really, I'm not going to be able to tell you anything until I get Fenix on my table. But honestly, it doesn't look good. That's all I'll say for right now. In the meantime, just…do me a favor and stay out here until I come get you. Why don't you go get some chow in you, take a shower or something. Even better, go get your blood screened."

Dom shook his head. "I…I can't. I'm B positive."

"Fine, fine whatever!" She looked him with the dwindling sense of tolerance. "Look, I got to get back in there and get to work. I'll come get you when the surgery is over, alright?"

As she turned to head back into the O.R., she suddenly felt Dom's hand reach out and grab her by her arm. His powerful grip caught her by surprise, but as she looked into his eyes, she could see he was pleading with her. "I tried, Hayman. You've got to believe me; I really did try to get him out of there. There were just…too many of them."

In a rare moment, Hayman felt sympathy. "I know you did, Dominic. You did the best that you could."

She pulled her arm away and walked back into the O.R., leaving behind a traumatized and staggering Dom alone in the empty hallway.


	2. Chapter Two: Death Sentence

Title: Man Down

Author: Ryoko Metallium

**Author's Notes: Urgh! This was such a pain! I so do not like writing long chapters! I've discovered that I do not have the creative patience to do it. What was I thinking? I'm sorry if I ended this chapter rather suddenly, but I just couldn't squeeze out anything else as far as creativity goes. I'm surprised that this didn't get as many reviews as I had hoped, but special thanks to those who did, ita-chan01 and gnarled. I hope you enjoy this installment. Keep those reviews coming!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gears of War. They are the property of Epic Games, Microsoft Game Studio and Cliff Bleszinski. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them. I promise I'll give them back.**

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**Chapter Two: Death Sentence**

_I got to admit, I have no idea how I've been able to survive this long. Everyone I loved is dead, yet I'm still hanging on. Some might think that I've just been lucky, but how lucky can I be if every day I wake up to see that we're nowhere close to victory. The government had made the promise that this war wouldn't last more than five. They lied, as do most governments do. Nothing has changed much since E-day. People are still fighting, still dying. I'm starting to doubt that the world can ever go back to the way it was before that. Of course it can't. Even if they Locust were to all die tomorrow, there's been too much destruction, too much death. Too many people have died for it to ever be like it was. Yet, somehow life goes on as best it can. I'm still alive, but for how much longer? Sometimes…I wonder if I'm one day away from getting a bullet in my head. Every day I fight like it's going to be my last battle, and in the back of my mind I wonder if it will be. I wonder how much fight I have left in me, how much time I have left before I end up like so many other Gears._

_Dead._

-Sg. Fenix, Journal Entry 485

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**Location: Jacinto City – Wrightman Base; COG Command Center and Medical, East Wing – Five Days Ago**

Even when asleep, Marcus was armed. He was never an arm's reach of his Lancer in case he needed to grab it at a moment's notice. It wasn't unusual for Gears to sleep with their weapons. Be ready minded, always alert. In this day and age, there was no such thing as being too careful. Gears had to be aware of their surroundings at all times, especially when they were off duty. For soldiers like Marcus who nothing else, sleeping with one eye open all the time was practically second nature.

It was the loud thundering sound of the Assault Derricks, the _chaka-chaka _of the King Ravens and Centaur trucks rolling by windows of hospital that woke Marcus up. By instinct, he grabbed his Lancer which he placed in short reach of him and the hospital bed he had been sleeping on, immediately expecting a fight. He saw the shadows of COG tanks driving into formation blocking the bright shine of the dawn's light from his eyes. He could hear someone shouting orders to the new Gear recruits just coming off the KRs, already giving them their first assignments. It wasn't a Locust attack, but that didn't stop Marcus from feeling he reacted appropriately.

'_What time is it?' _was the first question that came to mind followed by _'How long have I been out?_ It was rare, very rare to get a good night's sleep nowadays without the threat of an emergence hole erupting underneath your bed. Usually if Marcus was lucky, he'd get in a good two-three hours of sleep before he had to kick himself back into Marcus Fenix, Locust Killer again. Getting combat fatigue was always a concern with COG physicians, and there was always a steady number of Gears suffering from some kind of mental stress.

Marcus heaved himself off the gurney, sitting on the sides while his thumb and forefinger rubbed the lingering sleep in his eyes. For being thirty-six, his body ached like that of an old man. Maybe it was a sign that he needed to retire from the uniform. If only that were possible. His unit arrived back in Jacinto after doing patrol around the plateau areas near New Sherrith, an area that had been a hot bed for Locust activity.

Since the Lightmass Bomb, sightings of the horde had become less frequent. Surface sightings had dropped and the Kryll were pretty much nonexistent. Control was hopeful that the bomb had done its' job. So was Hoffman, but he wasn't about to go announcing to everyone that the Locust had been defeated without some kind proof. He didn't want to get his hopes up, which meant that squads were to be deployed into former cities to investigate any new Locust emergence, interrogate Stranded and report findings back to the COG through JACK. Delta squad had been pulling double shifts for almost five days since man-power had hit an all time low.

The night before was all a blur to Marcus. He could barely remember Dom telling him that he looked complete shit when he walked into the hospital and to try to get himself some sleep before they were sent out on another patrol. Marcus didn't even remember how he ended up on the gurney in the first place. Lucky for him, no one tagged his toe as a corpse. Wouldn't that have made Hoffman's day?

"Sergeant Fenix, glad to see that you're awake at last," said a voice. Marcus turned on saw the ever pleasant Dr. Hayman walking up to him with a cup of coffee in one hand while the other was shoved in her white coat pocket. "How's the bed?"

"If I compared them to the cots in the Slab, they're not that bad."

"Well, glad to hear it. Now if you'd gladly get your heavy ass off, I'll be taking it. Some poor bastard in Trauma One bled out before we could even crack him open, and now we got another wave coming in from the Pirnah Badlands and we're running out of beds."

A low groan rumbled in Marcus' throat as he inched off the gurney. "Guess the body count hasn't exactly changed much as Hoffman wanted it."

"I don't see why you're surprised," said Hayman, drinking the rest of her coffee. "If you ask me, the COG had no clue of what kind of repercussions would come from unloading a nuclear bomb underground. If it's not those goddamn grubs that are killing off our troops, we're up to our necks in Stranded dying from Imulsion sickness. We get new cases of Rustlung everyday Fenix, and we're running out of room in the morgue.

It seemed like if it wasn't one thing, it was something else trying to severely bring down the moral of the people. The Lightmass Bomb was suppost to have been the turning point in the war, but it ultimately did more harm than good. The bomb had sent up Imulsion particles into the atmosphere of Sera thus infecting the remaining populace of Sera. As if they didn't have enough to worry about. Delta squad had gone through a medical screening a few weeks after the assault to see if there was development of the illness. Early detection increased the chances of a full recovery.

"By the way, the results are in on your team's screening," said Hayman. "Tests came back positive for Imulsion exposure. There was some spotting on the lungs as well as some clouding, but not as much as some of the advanced patients here, so we caught it earlier. You'll need to get your team inoculated with medium-strength antihistamine and a tetanus booster before you're cleared for duty."

"Yeah yeah."

"Consider yourself lucky Fenix. In most cases, Gears wait too long to get treated before they're coughing up blood and mucus all over themselves. When that happens it's too late for any of the drugs to have an effect." Hayman rubbed her brow trying to relief the throbbing pain pounding in her eyes. She had spent eighteen hours on duty looking over labs, stitching wounds and performing five surgeries in a row with no more than six hours of sleep. She wasn't as young as she was when she was a med student, and working the nightshift wasn't as manageable as it used to be.

Marcus lifted himself back on his feet, feeling every known ache throughout his body. He wore nothing but the black do rag on his head and tattered pair of pants that he usually wore under his armor. He hadn't realized how naked he felt without it. His Gear armor was like his second skin, yet it almost impossible to get a good night sleep in. His muscular form was a buckshot mess of old bullet wounds and burns. Marcus was a walking testament of the horrors of this 14 year war as well as the Pendulum era. He was a legend in his own right, but as far as Marcus saw it, he was just some ass-hole who had gotten lucky.

"You haven't seen my unit by any chance?"

"Baird is doing weapons maintenance on the gun racks for some of the platoons before they head out, and I think I saw Cole running drills for the new recruits." Hayman's eyes wondered off towards the window as the Centaurs continued to parade past them. She saw the lines of new Gear soldiers making their way through with their bed rolls packed upon their shoulders. A swell of guilt started to form in her stomach, thinking about the chances she won't be seeing them again by the end of the day. "Dom is downstairs, in the chapel."

Marcus couldn't honestly say that he was surprised. Dom was the only man he knew that still went to chapel, the only man he knew who still had faith enough to pray. Maybe not as much. Dom was very secretive about what he did on his down time, but Marcus always seemed to know. Dom didn't so much as pray when he went to the chapel but instead used that time to say hi to his kids, Benedicto and Sylvia. He missed them like crazy. He missed being their father. Still it was hard from him to imagine being a father to them in this day and age had they been around. He could barely manage being a husband to Maria after E-Day. In a strange and twisted way, that was the only good thing about having them gone. They didn't have to see what the world had become.

Somehow, talking to his kids gave Dom the chance to fall back into his old self.

"Okay Hayman, thanks."

"Remember Fenix, don't forget to get yourself checked out. I don't want to see you again lying on some gurney, understand?"

"Willco."

Marcus staggered away and wadded through the crammed filled hallway of doctors, patients, wheelchairs and beds until he found what he was looking for; the men's room. It stank like moldy water and dirty toilets. Tile was chipped and broken and falling off the wall and two of three sinks were clogged. Maintenance was definitely lacing in this department. Marcus was lucky to find a working urinal to call his own. He had to give credit to the COG for sustaining a working plumping system for this long. Grub holes had made almost impossible to keep the sewage maintained all around Sera and disease were rampant some place. Call it one of the perks of Jacinto; you could piss and flush to your heart's content.

Ah, the simple pleasures.

He finished up then went over to the one working sink to wash up. For a split second, Marcus could a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror above, and stood staring at his reflection as the water poured over his rough calloused hands. He was hypnotized, spellbound by the haggard and disfigured excuse of a man staring back on him. He could barely recognize him. The years had not been kind to Marcus, not by any means. He bore the jagged scar down his face, a constant reminder of the person he was. A soldier, a man who understood war, lived it, breathed it and survived it only just to fight again for another cause; extinction. For years he could feel the weight of an uncertain future bearing down on him, slowly creeping with an ominous tread that churned his stomach.

How much longer would this war with the Locust continue? The Lightmass Bomb was to have ended it all in one swoop; it was suppost to be over by now.

Damn COG; it just like politicians to get their facts screwed up. Leave it to Prescott to fuck everything up for the rest of the populace. Still, it didn't really matter what Marcus thought. His job was to point and shoot, not get involved with political principles. That wasn't who he was.

He wasn't Adam Fenix.

"I'm not a politician, and I'm not a scientist. I just point and shoot" he told himself, as if he needed reminding.

Not wanting to dwell on the matter for too long, he peed quickly, washed, and then walked out of the bathroom to looking for Dom.

Every day the hospital seemed to be growing with people rushing back and forth for some reason or other. The COG had moved shortly after the Lightmass bombing, making it another one of their home bases. Hayman hated it having to try coordinating her staff around a bunch of smart-mouth soldiers while trying to take care of her patients. She'd complain, and the COG would just ignore her. That only seemed to piss the old girl off even more. Marcus figured the COG thought they were doing Hayman by moving into the hospital. It would mean protection should there ever be a Locust attack.

But since it hadn't happened yet, it just another annoyance that Hayman had to deal with.

Marcus pushed open the doors to the chapel slowly, taking a minute or two to look around. The chapel was perhaps one of the better looking rooms in the whole building. There were four rows of polished pews on each side with a tall podium standing at the very front. The multicolored windows were perfectly intact and shone brightly against the sunlight that beamed through. Outside, the muffled noise of passing Centaurs made the walls shake a bit.

Marcus spotted Dom in the first pew; in full gear with his head bowed and shoulders slumped as if he was in deep prayer. If he had heard Marcus come in, he made no indication that he cared. Marcus didn't mind however. Dom visited the chapel more than anybody these days, and whatever time he could get to himself that he could talk to his kids in peace, Marcus let him have it. He approached him slowly, trying to keep his steps as quiet as he could.

Dom was in midsentence as he got within earshot.

"…You should have seen it, Benny. You would've loved it. Your uncle Marcus just grabbed a Torque bow off a locust, loaded it and took out General RAAM. Boom, just like that! Never saw it coming. God...I miss you _me hijo._ You and Sylvia. Your daddy misses you guys so much. I miss your mommy too. But don't you worry; daddy is going to find her. I promise. In the meantime, look after your sister for me and I'll talk to you soon."

Marcus did a silent sigh, eyes shut for a moment. Dom looked up suddenly, seeing his partner watching him. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You look shit. Didn't have a nice nap?"

"Hayman woke me."

Dom made a face. "Talk about a wake-up call. We heading out?"

Marcus nodded. "Unless you need more time…"

"Nah, I'm okay. I've run out of things to talk about anyway." Dom sighed, shaking his head slowly. "You know, after E-day, Maria made me take down all the pictures off the walls. Told me to hide them somewhere so she couldn't look at them. She used to tell me that…it was too hard for her to pass by them every day, knowing what she had done. Now I wish I hadn't. I can barely remember what the kids look like anymore."

Marcus knew the feeling. His own memories of the Dom's kids had become sketchy over the years. Back when things were normal, he used to visit the Santiago's home on a daily basis. He remembered coming by their house on a daily basis every Friday night for family dinners, at Maria behest. Saturday nights were reserved for thrashball games and baroques. The Santiagos made him feel like part of a family.

The kids called him uncle.

When they died, it was an equally tragic and painful loss to him as if was for Dom.

"I try not to think about, you know, how they died," Dom continued. "I can't think about their lives…ending that way, sometimes. I can't, I just can't. I rather remember them as they were. Two of the best kids that any father could ask for."

"Yeah, I hear you." In moments such this, there was very little that anyone could say that would make the pain lessen. Marcus never knew how to handle grief. He never learned. "You can stay here if you want."

"Nah, let's get going. Don't want to leave Baird and Cole along too long. Hate for them to get into shit without us."

Dom picked up his Lancer that was sitting next to him and started walking out of the chapel, Marcus took a few seconds of his own. He had never been a praying man. Divine faith wasn't something that he could ever grasp very well. Nowadays it seemed pretty meaningless. Still, a part of him couldn't help but take a moment to say a few words.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "I'll keep an eye on your dad."

* * *

**Jacinto City – Wrightman Base; COG Command Center and Medical, Lobby – Present Day**

Anya Shroud was the first one through the automatic doors of the hospital, followed by Colonel Hoffman and Chairman Richard Prescott as they marched through the throng of Gears with great authority. The ward of in complete chaos with the staff trying to hold down order as best they can. Several soldiers had just been brought in from the Warden base near the city edge of Jacinto where they had just taken a hard hit from the Locust. An emergence hole erupted in dead center of the base and caught the ones stationed there off guard. Many were inhaled into the earth and those who managed to survived were now crying out for help. Unfortunately there weren't enough doctors on hand, as always. For the first time in her career, Anya didn't care about the injured soldiers and walked right passed without a second glance.

Hoffman cleared the path for both her and Chairman Prescott, using his booming voice that registered complete military power to move aside the huddled masses. Some recognized the Empry stars and the medals of a government department and moved aside without being ordered to. "Move aside! That's an order! Move! I said move damn it!"

A female attendant that had been franticly working the front desk caught side of the Colonel and the Chairman and rushed over to them. "Colonel Hoffman! Colonel Hoffman, sir!" The bald man turned and saw a petite woman in a small uniform doing a better job than they were of shoving her way through the crowd. "Colonel Hoffman, Chairman Prescott, Lieutenant Shroud, come with me please! This way!"

The attendant led the three of them down a less jammed-back hallway towards a private room. With a clipboard in hand, she started to give them a quick rundown of the events of the past couple of hours. "Dr. Hayman told me to relay you the details once you touched down. Sergeant Fenix was taken into surgery about three hours ago in critical condition sir. He was brought in with major chest wounds and an abdominal tear and massive internal bleeding."

"Was he awake?" Anya asked.

"Uh…no Lieutenant Shroud. Sergeant Fenix was in full arrest by the time he arrived."

Professionalism was a bitch to maintain, especially in the presence of the Chairman. To say that Anya was upset was a gross understatement. In reality her thoughts were working against her, imagining the absolute worst that had happened to Marcus. The last four days could only be described as hell for her, not being able to do anything but sit and listen to the action through her earpiece. It had been her life line to Delta team during that time. Their lives were in her hands, and she couldn't do anything more than navigate them through the ruins of Sera where they could find possible aid at one of the enforcement posts.

Anya wondered if she had done enough. Maybe she should have pushed for more ground and air support, or requested a barricade of Centaurs to pull Delta out.

Who was she kidding? Anya didn't have that leverage, and that's what killed her. No way was Prescott going to authorize the mobilization on an entire formation of troops just to retrieve one unit in the middle of nowhere and in hostile territory. Hearing that Marcus was injured in the line of duty was bad enough, but knowing that the COG was more than willing to leave him for death wasn't just wrong, but heartless.

"What is the status on Sergeant Fenix's condition now?" Prescott asked, as if he even cared.

"I'm not sure exactly Chairman. You will have to talk to Dr. Hayman once she's out of surgery. Colonel Hoffman, Delta team is waiting outside the O.R. if you wanted to speak with them."

Hoffman's shoulders heaved with a deep sigh as he wiped across his bald head with one hand. "Alright, thanks."

The attendant rushed out of the room in a hurry to get back to the ensuing madness that was building up in the lobby. More Gears were starting to be brought in. This wasn't a moment that Hoffman had been looking forward, even though he had been through it before with so many other men. He had stood at the bedside of brave soldiers who were at the edge of death, sometimes congratulating them on a hard fight or their display of courage before they slipped away. He had looked into their eyes and seen their fear and felt their desire to continue living.

He had seen good men die, but in all honestly Hoffman didn't imagine that this day would come. Never in his career did he imagine he would outlive, of all people, Marcus.

Just as the attendant had said, Hoffman found Delta squad camped out front of the operating room's swinging doors. All three of them looked like hell, in so many words. It was evident that they had been through a lot in the four days that they had been cut off from all communications, abandoned in hostile territory with no means of rescue and supplies worn down to nothing. Hoffman could see the drained expressions on their faces, as well as the black dust from gun fire, the bruises and the blood. So much blood covered their armor.

He wondered; how much of it was Locust and how much belonged to Marcus.

Augustus Cole was leaning the wall with Baird, arms crossed and in deeper thought that anyone had ever seen he do before. Baird was almost as stone-faced as Prescott, except for the occasional glance up at the O.R. doors. The 'surgery in session' light above the doors glowed bright red. Hoffman's eyes glanced down to the crumpled heap on the floor that was Dominic Santiago, hunched over motionless with his arms resting on his knees.

Cole saw them coming and nudged Baird a heads-ups.

Anya pushed past Hoffman and made her way over to Dom. She spoke softly, her voice on the brink of failing her composure. "Dom?"

He raised his head slowly and saw her standing over him, compassion and struggling resolve registering in her face. Without saying a word the Latino got to his feet, keeping his gaze solely on Anya. He appeared shocked to see her, until he reached over and wrapped his arms around her. She welcomed it, hugging him back despite the filth that covered him. Formalities would be excused for the time being.

"Glad to see you made it back in one piece Corporal," said Hoffman.

"With all due respect, you can shove your sympathy up your ass Colonel," said Dom without any apprehension in his voice. "As far as I'm concerned what happened out there could've been prevented if you and the COG moved in with an e-vac unit like we requested after the first ambush!"

"I'd be very careful who I was mouthing off to if I was you, Santiago. I had no authority to execute that kind of operation in that kind of terrain, not to mention that communications had been disengaged so locating your position was near impossi…"

"THAT IS BULLSHIT!" Dom screamed. He released Anya, casting her aside as he paced towards Hoffman with a very angry glare in his eye. He closed the gap between them so that they were staring squarely at each other.

"You and I both know that inside JACK a locator chip is installed just case we ever lose track of him in the field. That way Control can trace his units' location. It was specifically destined for that very purpose! You could've pinpointed our position through JACK, or at the very least had a KR unit fly in with a supply drop-off. But you didn't do a god-damn thing." Dom's voice lowered as his anger seethed. "You didn't anything for us, for Marcus. You abandoned him, just like you did before back at the Slab."

Hoffman inched closer to Dom, his own anger incensed when that still raw nerve was touched. "Watch you say to me soldier. Don't think for a second that I wouldn't have you stripped of your rank and demoted for insubordination towards your commanding officer."

"You know, he's got a point Colonel…sir," Baird muttered under his breath.

"You say something Private!"

Baird backed off quickly, looking very sheepish and out of place. "Nope, nothing. Just making an observation, that's all."

Dom stepped in closer. "I swear Hoffman; if anything happens to Marcus I'll…"

"You'll what Corporal?"

Hoffman's chest puffed out as he inhaled sharply, wrestling to restrain back his emotions. It was no secret to anyone that Hoffman and Marcus had shared a bad blood history together. He had played a major role in sending Marcus to prison after his well-known abandonment of his post to help his father. While Hoffman held a lot of respect for his soldiers, the same could not be said about his feelings towards Fenix. At the time, his adherence to military procedure was what got Marcus put in the Slab for a life sentence. Later on Hoffman came to regret his decision, but when the time came to it of making amends, Hoffman turned his back on Fenix again and left him to rot in his cell after pardoning all the other prisoners. If Dom hadn't defied orders and had come back for his friend, Hoffman probably would've just kept on walking.

"Dom, calm down," said Anya, trying to quail the fury between the two men.

"Stand down Corporal." Prescott's composed voice somehow was enough to cool down the fire that was growing out of control. Everyone had seemingly forgotten that the Chairman was even there; he had somehow had become part of the scenery and it was starting to annoy him. The heat of the argument had gone to such fever pitch that it had some attention of some of the Gears patrolling the hospital, peeking around the corners to watch the two men brawl. Dom did not back down right away, but continued to stare into Hoffman's eyes as if hoping he would get his answer.

Hoffman didn't fletch.

After a few tense seconds of silence, Dom turned away from Hoffman but his face was still hardened with anger. Obviously this argument would have to be settled at a later time without the eyes of Chairman Prescott hovering over them. The politician approached the group in a cool, calm and collected demeanor, much like any elected official would when he was going to make a rousing speech.

"You are well within the right to be upset Corporal Santiago. After the ordeal you and your squad has been through the last four days, it is only normal that you'd be under some kind of dramatic stress. Even more could be said about Sergeant Fenix. I humbly regret that we could not have done more in to prevent a tragedy such as this. Understand; the COG would never willfully abandon one of its' own during wartime. The COG values the lives of every single man who goes out into the battle against the Locust horde and who make the ultimate sacrifice for the good of all mankind."

It was funny how politicians could wrap up any kind of bad situation into a nice setting with just a couple of words. Listening to Prescott talk about the war was beyond insulting. He acted as he knew firsthand what Gears had to endure on a day-to-day basis. The pampered dickhead had never set foot on the battlefield, much less held a Lancer in his hand. Sure, he joined the army during the Pendulum Wars, but that was only for appearance sake and help boost his career. He only served 18 months and never saw combat or came under enemy fire. No doubt that Prescott was dedicated to the coalition. He would do anything for the COG, even if that meant forgoing the lives of a few good men.

Prescott had done it before when he unleashed the Hammer of Dawn on Sera.

He sighed evenly as he laid on gloved hand on Dom's shoulder. "You showed admirable leadership in place of Sergeant Fenix, Corporal. Actions such as that are greatly recognized and honored by the COG."

Unlike with Hoffman, Dom remained civil towards the Chairman and batted off the hand on his shoulder. "With all due respect sir, I didn't assume command of Delta squad after Sergeant Fenix was injured for any kind of honor. I was merely looking out for the safety of my men and in getting out of a hostile environment."

Prescott smiled and nodded. "Of course you were Corporal."

Another two hours passed before the 'surgery in-session' light finally shut off. The O.R. doors swung open as Dr. Hayman stumbled out just as she removed her surgical mask from her face and exhaled a long tired sigh. Her scrubs were stained dark red with blood. Hayman looked up, surprised, obviously not expecting to see everyone had been waiting for her.

"What the hell is this? You guys do know that we have a waiting room, right? This isn't a bar people." Her eyes went to Prescott. "Chairman…well, this is an unexpected surprise. To what do I owe?"

Prescott waved off Hayman's attitude as nothing and quickly got straight to the point. "What is the status of Sergeant Fenix's condition, Dr. Hayman?"

"Sheesh, give me a break, will you? I've only been in there for over eight hours and I haven't had a chance to take a leak." Looking past Prescott, she could see the restless and fearful looks in the faces of Delta squad staring straight at her, Anya Stroud included. They were probably the only ones who actually gave a shit about Fenix; band of brothers and all that good stuff. For their sake, she had to find the right words.

"I worked on Sergeant Fenix as best as I could, but I got to be perfectly honest, it looks bad. There was a great deal of damage done to Sergeant Fenix' internal organs. The gunshot wounds he sustained had torn through his aorta as well as his left and right atrium which caused serious internal bleeding. His appendix was mess and had to be removed. I repaired the damage done to his lower intestine and liver, but his kidneys couldn't be saved. I had to perform an emergency transplant, so lucky for him we have a perfect chilling in the freezer."

As part of an extra insurance policy, the COG had long issued a mandatory order for all Gears to register themselves on the human organ donation list. It was part of an act that stated should a soldier die in the line of duty; their organs would immediately be up for grabs in case another injured Gear was in need of them to survive. Call it a legal approach to trafficking, but it was the only way to insure the COG would have able bodied men to keep fighting.

"We were also lucky that we manage to come by a useable blood sample – thanks for that Baird."

"At least the dickhead can't say I never gave him anything," the blond private muttered under his breath. Call it cosmic irony that Baird had the same blood type as Marcus. "So, uh, is he gonna pull through or what, doc?"

"It's hard to say Damon. His condition is critical. Marcus crashed two times on the table in there and each time it got harder to bring him back. Plus, there's the matter have long his brain was deprived of oxygen to think about. The truth of the matter is that Sergeant Fenix is in such bad shape that his chances of coming out of this the same way as before are very slim."

Dom glanced over at Anya. She was taking it all in as best as she could, but the grim news was slowly tearing down her defenses. He could see her hand that was covered her face from few was starting to tremble. She was biting her bottom lip hard as her head shook in despair. Dom offered her another assuring hug while trying to stay as positive as he could. Anya fell against Dom's shoulder, shuddering as she let a few soft sobs.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Hey, it's okay. He'll be okay."

"What is your assessment on Sergeant Fenix's survival?" asked Prescott.

"Seriously, it's touch-and-go Chairman," replied Hayman. "We've got Fenix on life support at the moment plus a ventilator that's helping him to breathe, but his vitals are amazingly good considering. All we can do for the moment is wait it out. He's in coma and I can't be sure when – or if – he's going to come out of it, so I'm officially taking him off the active duty list. Now, if you'll excuse me gentleman, I think I've earned myself another cigarette."

"Thank you Dr. Hayman. Your services are greatly appreciated."

"Whatever."

Without saying anything else, Hayman brushed by them and went off to enjoy her cigarette. Silence came about everyone, trying to let the realization of things sink in. Dom continued to comfort Anya, holding her and repeating the same thing over and over while his mind reeled in a daze. How could've this had happened? Was this really happening? Was Marcus really going to die? Dom had fought so hard to keep his best friend alive for those four days of hell. He's only concern was getting his teammates to safety with the thought of survival driving in his every move. Dom had done everything he could, but had it been enough?

It was all too surreal to take in. There had been several occasion where Marcus and Dom had joked about the idea of death, saying what the other would do if the other died. It was a morbid conversation, and the two of them never really allowed themselves to think on it for too long. Dom's main concern had been on and always would be finding Maria, and he died before he got the chance to see her again, he made Marcus swear he'd continue the search. Being the friend that he was, he swore he would.

But strangely enough, he never asked for anything in return. When Dom asked him, his response was clear and to the point:

_'You don't need to worry about me, Dom,'_ he had said one night while they were out on patrol. _'When I'm gone…hell, I doubt that anyone is going to miss me. If I know Hoffman, the bald bastard is going to pay everyone a round of shots. Maybe he'll even throw a fucking parade while he's at it. Just worrying about yourself. That's all I ask.'_

Thinking back on that conversation now, Dom couldn't help but wonder if Marcus ever thought his life was worth saving. If so, did he ever hate him for getting him out of the Slab?

"Damn man," Cole breathed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is some straight bullshit…"

"Yeah…" said Baird. That was the most sympathy that anyone was going to hear out of him.

"This is a most unfortunate turn of events in our effort against the Locust," said Prescott. "Despite his tarnished record and discredited history, Sergeant Fenix was still a remarkable soldier. His actions in the war effort, those include in the Lightmass bombing will be well recognized by the COG. However, as the matter now stands, we will have to make the proper measures to appoint a new leader of Delta squad."

"Beg your pardon Chairman, but if you heard Dr. Hayman correctly, she stated that Sergeant Fenix still has a good chance of pulling through," said Hoffman, surprisingly. "It's just a matter of waiting to see what happens."

"Waiting isn't a privilege that we can afford, Coronel. Not with the war becoming more critical every passing day."

"I'm just saying that we should not write off Fenix so quickly. After all, hasn't he already proven that he can turn the tide when it works against him?"

Prescott sighed and flashed Hoffman a condescending grin. "It's nice to see you have such faith in your squadrons even in times that seem utterly hopeless. Nonetheless, as I've already stated, this war effort cannot afford to put all its plans on hold while we wait for one comatose solder." Prescott turned his attention towards Dom. "Corporal Santiago, in recognition of your commendable performance during Sergeant Fenix's incapacitation, I am appointing you the position of team leader of Delta squad. For the time being, you will assume all responsibilities and mission assignments until the COG can make the matter official."

Dom must have thought he heard the Chairman wrong as he stared him blankly. "What? No…y-you can't do that," he managed to say, slowly handing off Anya to an equally stunned Cole and Baird.

"On the contrary," said Prescott, stepping closer to Dom. "As part of the Coalition's war charter, it is within my authority to effective reassign the position of any soldier whenever a given situation deems it necessary. Take this matter for an example. With Sergeant Fenix out of commission and our reserve of able-bodied men running thin, I am left with very little option here. As of now, you will be promoted to the rank of Sergeant and…"

"You can't do this!" Dom said again, his voice interrupting Prescott as it rose several levels. He could feel his stomach knotting in anger. "No way am I taking Marcus' place! This is his squad!

"It's odd you should say that. Given the actions you've demonstrated over the past four days, it more than qualifies you for the job. This is not a punishment, Santiago. This is a promotion, and I think…"

"I don't care what you think, Chairman." Dom interrupted Prescott a second time. He took a step back, feeling the urge to punch Prescott becoming dangerously stronger. "You can take your promotion and respectfully shove it. I'm not doing it."

Prescott's face grimaced sourly. He was getting agitated. Obviously, having being talked down wasn't something he enjoyed. Especially it was being done deliberating by a low ranking soldier.

"I am going to overlook this act of insubordination, _Sergeant, _only because you refuse to see the big picture. So I am going to explain it to you. Despite the reservations you have about taking over Fenix' position, it does not overlook the fact that if it weren't for you, neither Fenix nor your men would have made it to this point. It was because you that them got out of there alive. You took the initiative and commanded your squad admirably through enemy territory. Regardless of how the next couple of days play out for Fenix, I believe that that act alone is worth acknowledging."

Prescott then took a stand, swinging his arms behind his back. "However, if you still refuse to take the position, then I'll be left with very little option but to disband Delta Squad."

Dom paused for a moment, his eyes grew wider.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, just a minute! Can he do that?" asked Baird, turning to Anya. "Can he actually do that? He can't, right? Tell me he's just blowing smoke up my ass and I'll feel better."

Anya intervened. "Chairman, if I may? Delta squad is probably the best team that the COG has at moment. You can't possibly be suggesting that we get rid of the best defense we have against the Locust, are you?"

"Well, that is up to Sergeant Santiago," said Prescott. "As you've just pointed out, Lieutenant, Delta is perhaps the best squad that the COG has to combat the Locust. After all, this team successfully executed the launch of the Lightmass bomb. I would hate to lose such a valuable asset. Nevertheless, we are at war. If a decision cannot be made, then I will make one. Augustus Cole and Damon Baird will be reassigned to different squadrons as will Santiago."

"And what about Marcus," asked Cole. "He may be down, but he's defiantly not out of the game."

"Unfortunately, that is out my hands, unless Sergeant Fenix shows signs of improvement in the next couple of day." He turned his attention back to Dom. "What's your decision, Sergeant? Accept the position or Delta gets reassigned."

Anya, Cole and Baird watched as Dom went unnervingly silent for a moment, clearly weighing his options. Slowly, he started to realize that he didn't have any. Prescott had deliberately painted him into a corner, leaving him to make possibility the most difficult decision of his life. Delta was his team; that's all there was to it. He looked to Cole and Baird as his brothers, just as he had with Marcus. Prescott couldn't see that because the pompous asshole cared about nothing but himself and his approval rating. It would've been easy for him to dismiss Delta. He didn't have to care how it would affect anyone.

The war was his only concern.

Still, no amount of reasoning would convince Dom into thinking he was capable of being leader. That wasn't who he was. Hell, even if he was the kind of leader that Prescott was making him out to be, then maybe Marcus wouldn't have been as badly as he was. The truth of the matter was that he didn't feel right about taking over for Marcus. The guilt alone was eating him alive to the point that he wished he could trade places with him, hooked to a ventilator fighting for his life.

The near-unbearable thing was that if this never would've happened if he had been a better solider.

A better friend.

Staring back at Prescott whose face was the model of leisurely calm, Dom gave him his answer. "Just let me be clear on one thing. The only person that I would do this for is Marcus, no one else. Not you, not for the damned COG. I owe it to him to keep this team together. Not that would mean anything to you."

"So long as you understand what is expected of you, then I don't see any problem." He turned to Hoffman. "We will need to remote this matter to the COG, see what matters need to taken in increasing our ranks. Lieutenant Shroud, Colonel Hoffman, if you would occupy me?"

Anya looked at Dom questionably, seemingly as if asking for his permission. Dom patted her arm. "Go on. It's okay. I'll let you know if there's any change."

"Dom, I…I'm sorry I couldn't do for you. I'm sorry I…"

"You did what you could, Anya. More than most."

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement, wiping her face and trying to make herself look as presentable as possible. "I'll check in later with you guys. Take care Dom."

Anya was hesitant to leave at first, lingering behind while Prescott and Hoffman took their leave without her. She waved to the three of them one last time before running to catch up with the two men. Dom waited for their footsteps to fade before he pressed himself against the wall. He wiped his face against his palm, his body sagging with fatigue. He looked up and saw Baird staring at him with a look of smug satisfaction.

"Spit it out already, Baird. Just get it out of your system."

Baird smiled as he wiped away fake tears. "You know, in some strange way, I can't help but feel proud at this very moment. It's not every day that you get the chance to tell the prince-of-the-douche bags to kiss it. Kinda makes me wish I said it."

Cole chuckled, gripping Dom's shoulder. "Seriously man. You did good. Aien't no one gonna break up Delta squad. Marcus would be proud of ya'."

Dom didn't look convinced. "I still don't like it. I shouldn't be the one taking over…not after what happened out there."

"Quit beating yourself up about it, man," said Baird. "So things went to shit? Hell, that's practically an everyday occurrence with us. Not to say that I'm used to it by now but…"

"You do what you have to do," said Cole. "That's all you can do."

"That's the best any of us can manage, I guess," said Dom melancholy.

"We should go do something productive in the meantime." Baird rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to get a drink. Anyone want to come with?"

"Yo, count me in baby," said Cole. "We should probably find that kid take came with us. We owe him big time."

"Yeah, no joke. You coming Dom?"

Dom shook his head. "Nah, you guys go on ahead. I think I'm going to hang here for awhile. I'll catch up with you…"

At that moment, the doors of the O.R. swung open as a crew of surgeons and nurses appeared, wheeling out a gurney with Marcus lying on it. The three of them paused as the bed rolled by, their eyes immediately drawn to the sight of their fallen friend. Dom was taken aback. Time seemed to slowed to a crawl as he got in a good look. He found himself staring at someone who looked nothing like his best friend. He was corpse pale. His eyes were shut, one arm in a cast. His body was a mess of blood-soaked bandages, tubes and wires. An intubation tube was in his throat, connected to an ambu bag where a nurse was pumping it to help him breathe. At least the doctors had the decency to leave his do-rag on him.

If that wasn't there, Dom doubted he believe it was actually Marcus was looking at.

"He'll be up in the intensive care unit up on the third floor," said a nurse as she passed. "You can head up there after we've got him settled."

She walked away quickly as the gurney was wheeled into a waiting elevator and rode it up to the chosen floor. There was a long moment of silence, and then a sound of Dom chuckling.

"It's just like they always say. Always the shit closest to home that hits you the hardest."


	3. Chapter Three: Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

**When the release of Gears of War 3 earlier this year, I have decided to take a look back at "Man Down: If Today was Your Last Day" and do some changes that have long bugged me. These changes are minor, so do not worry. The story remains the same, however, the first two chapters have been edited and new scenes have been written in. These scenes were originally taken out but have been added back in. I apologize for not updating this story, and there hasn't been much development for such a long time. I am hoping to get back to work on this story now that I have Gears of War 3 to help inspire me. Thank you to all who have been more than patient with me and my inconstancy. I hope that all of you will continue to be patient with me as I will continue writing this story. **

**Thanks again!**

**Ryoko Metallium**


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